The Willowsbrook Chronicles - Chapter 10: Call of the lady!
Hello, everyone, greetings and salutations from the Pacific Northwest. Once again, we return to the world of The WIllowsbrook Chronicles.
Last chapter Gunther and the others grabbed the supplies they needed. Then they began their journey towards the Inn given by Duke Arcturius Brekkin.
As they made their way towards their destination, they realized something was wrong. They also noticed how there were fewer guards and fewer of the Ranger Knights.
They soon learned why. The Inn was near the Cursed lands. An area of dark magic that Duke Brekkin and his people seem to fear.
But why did the Duke send Gunther and his friends to such a terrible place? Is there more going on than meets the eye? You’ll have to see as The Cursed Lands story arc continues.
(Author’s note: Special to Amazing Gaming Productions @MakeGamesGreatAgain. Thank you for introducing me to the Hemingway app. It's proving to be quite the taskmaster, and a great way to improve my work. Thank you so much for the link.
“I can’t believe the Duke put us in this situation!” Quigsley Starshatter yelped.
“I know,” Naomi added. “What in the Gods’ name was he thinking?”
"Enough talk everyone," The big man warned. "Let’s get the wagon ready and…”
His Illusionist friend let out a fearful shout. The Innkeeper turned to see the Illusionist pointing in the direction they had come. An evil fog was creeping in of its own volition. In a matter of seconds, the fog had made travel impossible. “Son of a bitch,” he swore.
“We’re bloody trapped,” the terrified spell caster whimpered.
The auburn-haired barmaid looked as frightened. “Oh Gunther, what are we going to do?”
A phantom voice chuckled from all around them. The laughter shook the Innkeeper down to his very soul.
He had heard the dark power of the Cursed Lands had a malevolent intelligence, and now he was certain of it. There was no way they could escape now, even if they tried to brave the fog.
Gunther closed his eyes and did the calming exercises Mother Allegra had taught him. I must not get angry, he thought. I must not get angry or panicked, I won’t let that happen again.
A hand on a shoulder caused the big man to open his eyes. He turned to see Naomi staring at him in concern. “You’re trying not to think about that incident, aren’t you?” Was the matter of fact observation from the woman.
He nodded. “Aye?” the former Mage Academy student inquired.
The Auburn-haired barmaid glared at the Illusionist. “Not right now,” she stated between gritted teeth.
“So, what the Hells can we do?" The panicked spell caster squawked.
Calmed, the former cook set his mind to the task at hand.
“Well first of all, since we're not going anywhere, we need to get unpacked and get everything inside the Inn. I did notice the thatch on the roof seems to be a little worn, we'll need to replace at least some of it. Tonight though, we sleep inside the Inn.”
Then he inquired, “Did you bring those holy relics of Mallastra with you?”
The barmaid nodded. “I made sure to pack them when I left my cottage in Ansolar. Thank the Gods our homes weren't near the Foamy Mug Inn.”
“Too right Naomi,” The spell caster added. “If me ingredients garden had been burnt to a crisp, thrown a fit I would’ve.”
Illusionist and barmaid took the wagon and headed for the stable. Gunther looked around. “Whoever or whatever you are, I’m not playing your game, and I'm not going down without a struggle.”
Go ahead and try fool, a taunting voice said in his head.
The inn proprietor controlled the visceral burst of terror. He turned and headed in the direction the wagon had gone.
The trio were in trouble, more so than with Rier and his little scheme. But he knew, by one way or another, he would at least try to get them out of this mess.
I've been running all my life, but Ansolar was the last straw, I won't run now or ever again! The big man thought as he felt a fire beginning to surge within him.
The rest of the day they spent getting the Inn set up.
As night began to settle in, the three had finished making what preparations they could.
The screaming of the horses drew the three outside. They could only watch as the fog wrapped around the animals before they vanished.
The mocking laughter of the dark force behind this mist, and the Cursed Lands greeted them. Then came the moaning and screeching of things that the trio didn’t want to know about. Without another word, they slammed the doors shut and locked them.
"Our horses, Mallastra's graces the poor dears," Naomi moaned.
Gunther breathed in and out trying to calm himself.
Quigsley chose to check the fire in the common room. The fire crackled and provided light and warmth while candelabras added to the light. But, it did little to quell the fears of the three.
“This is terrible!” Quigsley finally snapped. “Here we are, trapped in an inn near the Cursed Lands, other than the Duke, no one knows we’re here and no one even cares!”
Naomi looked at the Illusionist. “Thanks for sharing these good times with us.” She quipped.
“Oh, shut up,” the illusionist retorted.
“Quiet both of you,” the Innkeeper snapped, the bickering of the two starting to get to him. “I’m trying to think.”
“Whole bloody lot of good thinking is gonna’ do us! Particularly when some damn undead creeps come looking for us,” the spellcaster snarled.
“I said stop it!” the big man roared before he winced. “Sorry, this bad situation is starting to get to me too.”
Naomi sighed in frustration. “Well, it’s a bit of a comfort knowing we’re in trouble together.”
A light tapping at the front door caught their attention. Gunther unlocked the door, then opened it.
He looked out on a world that was like something out of a bad dream. An an eerie fog seemed to coalesce around the trees and kept the sky from view. The new inn owner saw nothing and figured his imagination was playing tricks on him.
Help me, a female voice begged in his mind.
He yelped as he slammed the door shut and barred the door. His friends scrambled over to the trembling man. “You all right?” The Illusionist asked looking concerned for his friend.
“I… I…,” he tried to say his mind still racing with fright.
Naomi walked up to him her own face a mask of worry. “Gunther, what’s happening?”
He shook his head and calmed himself. “Okay, I realize this is going to make me sound mad, but I swear I heard a voice coming from outside. It sounded like that of a woman.”
“Are you certain you’re well?" was Naomi's cautious response.
“Hang on, hang on,” the Illusionist inquired. "A woman’s voice you say?”
The tall cook nodded in confirmation. The Illusionist ran for a set of stairs that led up to the second floor. “Naomi, I’m not crazy, I swear I did hear something.” He insisted.
“If you… Say so?” the auburn woman ventured, uncertainty in her words.
A few minutes later, the two heard a familiar voice from upstairs let out a horrified yelp. They raced for the stairs, only to see Quigsley scampering down them. The two managed to get out of the way of the pale faced spell caster.
The grey-robed man was holding some kind of leather-bound book in his hands. “Gah, it’s her!” Quigsley spurted out his tone of voice, like his body, trembling.
The bearded man sighed in consternation. “Will you please start making sense?”
The spell caster took a moment to calm down. “Naomi, Gunther, we’re in more trouble than we thought. There’s a reason this inn hasn’t seen much use recently. This is on the ruins of the property that she owned.”
Even-tempered Naomi glared at the reading glasses wearing wizard. “Whatever are you talking about?” she asked.
He waved them over to a table and set his book on it. He turned the pages until they saw a picture of a slender woman with long flowing red hair, in a long forest green dress. The woman's hands glowed with tremendous mystic power.
“Lady Brianna Gabrielle," the Illusionist explained. “She was a very powerful sorceress, very beautiful, and quite an arrogant one at that. She ‘ad a nasty habit of leading men on and was a shameless flirt who enjoyed breaking men’s hearts.”
On hearing that, the Inn owner started to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Naomi, for her part, crossed her arms over her chest, as a stern, disapproving look crossed her face. “Ugh,” she growled rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen those types of using women, I loathe their kind.”
“Go on,” The innkeeper told the grey-robed spell caster.
“’Here’s where it gets nasty, she ended up leading on the wrong man. That man, was the powerful Necromancer Gadros.”
“Wasn’t he the one responsible for the creation of the Cursed Lands?" Naomi ventured.
“Aye lass, that be the bugger! To make a long story short, he didn’t take to having his feelings played on by that sorceress, so they had it out. He ended up killing her, before he vanished into the area that’s now the Cursed Lands.
Quigsley face darkened. "And with word comig’ out recently its expanding….”
The trio's leader felt his heart sink. “We’re in the middle of the Cursed Lands' path.”
“Why,” Naomi moaned. “Why would Duke Brekkin send us into this? How could he be so cruel?”
Help me, the female voice called again in the big cook’s mind.
At the squawk of fear, the barmaid looked at her big friend. “Gunther, you’re starting to scare me.”
“I may have taken one too many hits to the head. I swear I keep hearing someone calling to me asking for help.” He insisted, as his body and voice shook.
“It ain't your imagination," the Illusionist stated, a dark angry edge to his voice. "It’s Lady Brianna Gabrielle, calling you.”
Naomi hugged her friend, frightened for him. “Why me? I’m an innkeeper.”
The wizard thought for a moment. “You know, I've heard about some kind of prophecy involving someone bringing an end to the Cursed Lands. Though h‘ow that legend goes, I can’t remember for the life of me.”
A sense of impending doom washed over the former tavern cook. Please not that, anything but that.
Then he calmed himself. Okay, let’s not panic yet. It may all be a mistake, or you may have to find the real one. The big man concluded, hoping against hope that his first assumption wasn’t true.
“That still doesn’t answer why Duke Brekkin kept this information from us, or put us in this mess.” Naomi stated, frightened.
A scroll case appeared before the tall cook in a puff of smoke. He extended his hands so the case floated into them. "Greetings Gunther Willowsbrook and friends,” spoke in the voice of Duke Brekkin.
“Forgive me for keeping secrets from you, but under the circumstances this was for the best. Had I revealed everything you would have fled. What I tricked you and your friends into concerns Brianna Gabrielle and the Cursed Lands.
"If you succeed, this inn will be all yours as per the contract we signed. Please understand, my lifelong friend Pope Geoffrey insisted on secrecy. Speak with the spirit of Lady Gabrielle to reveal all, good luck and may the Gods protect you.”
The Scroll case and Magic Mouth vanished in another puff of smoke. The Inn owner walked over to a nearby table and slumped in one of the chairs, his spirit broken.
He’d wanted this inn to get away from danger and adventure. Now here they were, in the thick of it yet again. His hands grabbed at his thick hair as his head sank on to the table.
And the plot thickens. So, it seems that Duke Brekkin tricked them into going to this inn.
Now poor Gunther and his friends find themselves in a dangerous adventure once again. But why is Lady Brianna Gabrielle summoning Gunther? What secrets will he discover from the spirit of the dead sorceress? What other secrets will Gunther uncover?
You’ll have to find out. Come back for The Willowsbrook Chronicles – Chapter 11: Secrets of the Sorceress
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Previous: The Willowsbrook Chronicles – Chapter 9: Inn by the Cursed Lands.
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